


just like kisses on the necks of best friends

by extremegraphicviolins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), POV Outsider, Pre-Season/Series 03, Sparring, and """"sparring""""
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremegraphicviolins/pseuds/extremegraphicviolins
Summary: Keith and Shiro had been…off,lately. Lance could tell. He was great at reading people. And over the past few weeks, it had become glaringly obvious.They were fighting.Honestly, Lance was just surprised that the rest of the team hadn’t clued in yet.





	just like kisses on the necks of best friends

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write omg.
> 
> Title is from "Summer Song" by Fall Out Boy.

Keith and Shiro had been… _off_ _,_ lately. Lance could tell. He was great at reading people. And over the past few weeks, it had become glaringly obvious.

They were fighting.

Honestly, Lance was just surprised that the rest of the team hadn’t clued in yet.

It all started on a mission a few weeks back.

Things started off fine. They were just answering a distress call on the planet Droz, which didn’t even look inhabited, let alone hostile—but oh boy, was Lance wrong about that one. It was definitely, _definitely_ hostile. The Galra fighter ships had Voltron split up within barely 5 doboshes, and things only got worse from there.

Pidge was on the ground, trying to fix the city’s particle barrier. Hunk flew close to the ground in Yellow, doing damage control and trying to protect the city below, which—surprise!—was super-duper inhabited. Shiro was firing blasts at the fighters from as safe a distance as he could. Lance was kicking ass with Blue, of course. And Keith… Keith was being Keith.

He and Red were getting all up in the fighters’ business, attacking hard and fast and often, just like the Red Lion was made to do. But the Galra were fighting back just as hard. For every Galra ship that Keith knocked out of the sky, more zoomed in to take its place. And even though Keith was one of the best pilots Lance had ever seen (he’d never say it to Keith’s face, though) the Red Lion was taking one hell of a beating. It wouldn’t be long before things went from bad to worse.

“Keith!” Shiro barked over the comms. “Get out of there!”

A crash and a muffled grunt came in response. “No,” he said raggedly. “I’m buying you guys time. Pidge, how’s the particle barrier?”

“Working on it!” Pidge’s voice was strained. “Just a few more doboshes…”

“Keith,” said Shiro again, “get out of there. You can keep them at bay from a distance. Draw them away from the shield.”

“But—”

“Keith. That’s an order.” Shiro’s voice was like steel.

Another crash. Another weird, grunty Keith sound. “Yes, sir.” Keith sounded so pissed off that even though the comms were on audio-only, Lance could practically see the set of Keith’s jaw.

Luckily, the shield went up soon after, with all the Galra cruisers outside. The lions returned to their hangars, and the castle-ship landed on the surface of Droz.

“Well done, paladins!” Coran said once they were inside. “I didn’t doubt you for a dobosh! Well, maybe one dobosh, actually… but the city is safe, and that’s what matters!”

“We’ll be staying on Droz for a while longer,” Allura said from the castle-ship’s helm. “Just to make sure that the cruisers don’t return. But for now, rest up.” Her lips quirked up in a small smile. “You’ve earned it.”

 _“Yesss.”_ Lance dropped onto the couch, limbs splaying in every direction. After the chaos of a battle, it always felt weird to retreat to the peace of the castle-ship. Things were almost too quiet. But it was also kind of awesome to flop onto the long couches with the rest of the team. It was like the post-game ritual he and his old soccer team had of lying on the field after a game. Except now he was lying on a glowing alien couch in the middle of space, and the game was a literal life-or-death situation. (Minor details.)

Lance folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, all at once riding high on adrenaline and needing about eighteen naps. He let himself zone out, just for a couple minutes. Allura had said that they’d earned some rest, after all. The others’ voices faded into background noise. Lance was so tired that he barely noticed _it_ —‘it’ being the hand Shiro carefully laid on Keith’s shoulder, along with the words, “Can you come by my room later? We need to have a word.” Keith simply nodded.

And it wasn’t _that_ weird, objectively—everyone knew that Keith and Shiro were Mega Best Friends. They talked all the time. But there was something about Shiro’s tone, something about the careful, deliberate way he set his hand on Keith’s shoulder. And when Lance added that up with the way Shiro had barked at Keith during the battle… maybe it _was_ a little weird.

But it wasn’t weird enough to keep Lance’s attention when Pidge emerged from the kitchen with crinkly bags of alien junk food—all at once, it hit him how hungry and exhausted he was. And it definitely wasn’t weird enough for Lance to think of it again.

At least, not until the next time it happened.

Sparring was totally not a weird thing to do. They were paladins, after all, and Lance had to keep his sick fighting skills sharp. The paladins were all a pretty even match for each other—most of the time, anyway. But there were some days when certain people (cough, _Keith_ ) went completely bananas on the training deck, and today was one of those days. Lance had beat him in the first round and had _maybe_ gotten a little cocky and that had been his downfall, but by the third time Keith landed Lance flat on his ass, Lance began to think that it wasn’t just his own over-confidence. And it wasn’t over-confidence at all, thank you very much. It was Keith, sparring like a complete maniac.

“Okay,” Lance said, after Keith had pinned him to the floor a few more times, because knowing when to quit had never been his strong suit. “Okay. I—” Keith rolled off of Lance’s back, and Lance got to his feet. “I need a break. It’s somebody else’s turn.” He turned and headed for the sideboards to get his water bottle.

“I’ll go.”

The words stopped Lance dead in his tracks, water bottle long forgotten. Because the only person who could consistently beat Keith was Shiro—partially because Shiro was fast and strong as hell and oh yeah, had a weaponized prosthetic that was probably stronger than titanium, but also because he and Keith were besties. They sparred all the time—sometimes in Shiro’s room; Lance had heard the sounds of movement and heavy breathing and the occasional bump of furniture when he walked past it sometimes after hours—and so of course, Shiro knew all of Keith’s moves.

But today, Keith was not to be stopped. Lance was about to suggest that with his winning streak, Keith should try fighting Zarkon, when all of a sudden, he forgot about the joke entirely. Because just when Shiro was about to pin Keith chest-to-chest to the floor, Keith flipped them over in one swift motion and slammed Shiro back-first into the training mat.

Lance watched as Keith wordlessly raised an eyebrow at Shiro, lips quirking up into the smallest, smuggest smile.

“No,” Shiro said, even though Keith hadn’t asked a question.

“I won,” Keith replied, his hands still planted firmly on Shiro’s shoulder, keeping his back pinned to the ground. “Yield.”

When Shiro didn’t say anything, Keith sat on him.

“Yield,” Keith said again, pressing a little harder on Shiro’s shoulders, and _that_ was a little weird. Keith was usually a better sport about winning, considering how often he did it.

Lance didn’t notice that the training deck had fallen silent until Hunk coughed and left. Poor guy. Lance knew he hated conflict.

Shiro held Keith’s gaze for a few long seconds. “Fine,” he finally said. “I yield. But I need to have a word with you later.”

Keith’s smirk widened, ever so slightly. There was a fighting edge to his voice. “Do you, now.”

Pidge coughed. Was everyone getting sick all of a sudden? “Coran, Allura, I need to show you something in the lab.” She grabbed her water bottle and stood up to leave. “Lance, you should come too.”

“B-but… I’m not done training!” Lance spluttered. Or watching the fight of the decaphoebe play out, right in front of his own two eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Keith said. He didn’t even look at Lance. His eyes were still fixed on Shiro with so much intensity Lance was worried that if he left, they would start tearing each other apart.

“Lance,” Pidge said.

Lance cast one last glance at Shiro and Keith, who were still having their weird staring contest. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever robot thing you’ve got in the lab better be good.”

When they had left the training deck, Lance asked Pidge, “Do you think they were acting… weird today?”

“Who, Keith and Shiro?” Lance nodded. “Eh,” Pidge said. “No weirder than usual.”

And for a while, it seemed like Pidge was right—when Lance walked down the hall that night on his way to bed, there were sparring sounds coming from Shiro’s room, just like normal. It sounded like a regular, friendly match—Lance caught the muffled sound of a laugh, followed by Shiro’s name in Keith’s voice, and the thunk of something hitting the wall. As annoying as Keith was, Lance was glad that he and Shiro weren’t fighting anymore. It had made things super weird with the team.

But the un-weirdness only lasted until breakfast the next morning. Because as it turned out, Pidge could sometimes be wrong.

It wasn’t that Keith and Shiro were being hostile toward each other. In fact, there were times when it almost seemed like they weren’t fighting at all. But then, if they weren’t fighting, why was Keith acting so distant toward Shiro? And why was Shiro acting so cold? Lance frowned as he shoveled food goo into his mouth, and chanced the occasional look at Keith and Shiro, who still sat beside each other at every meal even though they were probably enemies at this point.

Lance sighed and thought back to a simpler time. A time about two months ago, when Keith and Shiro still joked around with each other at the breakfast table instead of acting like robots. They hardly looked at each other anymore. It seemed like they were… holding back. Which on one hand, Lance appreciated, since whatever beef they had with each other was _so_ not his business. But it also made mealtimes unbelievably uncomfortable. So much so that Lance actually volunteered to do the dishes two nights in a row.

“I really hope Keith and Shiro stop fighting soon,” Lance lamented as he dried another plate that Hunk handed to him, “because things have been super awkward around here.”

Hunk gave him a puzzled look. “Why would they be fighting?”

Lance wiped some excess bubbles off of a bowl. Hunk always used too much dish soap. “That’s what I can’t figure out. But they’ve been weird lately, and I wanna know why.”

“Well, I don’t think they’re fighting,” Hunk said. “They’re Shiro and Keith.”

“That’s not proof of anything!”

Hunk sighed and shut off the water. “Look, dude. They’re not fighting. They’re not. Just… trust me on this one, alright?”

“Alright,” Lance said. He trusted Hunk with his life, but he didn’t trust Hunk on this one.

 

* * *

 

Lance had always heard that things got worse before they got better.

It had been another few weeks, and he was really holding out for that ‘better’. Because in the time that had passed, Lance was pretty sure that Shiro and Keith had gone from mere frenemies to straight-up arch-nemeses. With things going they way they were, Lance had no choice but continue his investigation, like any good scientist would. Pidge and Hunk would have been proud, if they actually listened to him about this in the first place. But frankly, the evidence was stacking up so fast that Lance couldn’t believe they were ignoring it.

For example, Exhibit A: The cold, civil, carefully-maintained distance between Keith and Shiro at breakfast time, or lunch time, or dinner time, or any other time that required normal, friendly human interaction. If Lance thought they had been holding back a few weeks ago, then this was something else entirely. Gone were the days of friendly shoulder touches, replaced by nonchalant nods and terse greetings. _Hey,_ Keith would say. _Hey,_ Shiro would say back, with an unusual amount of eye contact.

Which brought Lance to Exhibit B: The Staring. Whenever Shiro and Keith spoke (which was surprisingly often for people who were enemies) they gave each other all kinds of weird looks. Not, like, making faces at each other, which would have been completely understandable and far less weird than what was actually going on. No, this fell into the category of awkward, prolonged staring. And didn’t Lance read somewhere that eye contact that lasted for longer than six seconds meant either attraction or a desire for murder? Because if that was true, Keith and Shiro definitely wanted to murder each other. It was only a matter of which one got there first. And if Lance had to bet, he would have put all his GAC on Keith. Because Keith had gotten a lot more… _intense_ since this whole ‘Keith-and-Shiro-are-fighting’ thing started. Enough to warrant an Exhibit C.

At first Lance chalked it up to Keith being his super-serious, super-competitive self. But then he noticed how hard Keith had started to go during training—especially during sparring. He fought like hell to pin Shiro to the mat time after time, wearing a hyena’s grin every time he came out on top. But when Keith started sparring with Shiro when they weren’t on the training deck or even in Shiro’s room, that raised at least seven red flags. Lance watched—no, _observed_ , very diligently and scientifically—as Keith repeatedly dragged Shiro off to god-knows-where. Granted, Lance had never _seen_ one of the top-secret Keith-initiated fights that happened in the shadows of the castle-ship—only the angry purple-red bruises on Keith’s neck and collarbone and waist that he had seen for a split second in the showers after training—but he had a hunch about this. And his hunches were almost always right, 99.9% of the time. Things were almost certainly getting physical.

It all came to a peak after a long, frustrating training session with the lions. All afternoon, Shiro had been giving orders over the comms, and Keith had been responding to each one with an increasingly sarcastic “Yes sir.” As the day wore on, Shiro’s voice only got more tense, and Keith’s expression got more smug. Thankfully, Coran suggested that they call it a day when the twitch in Shiro’s eye had become visible from the next galaxy.

In the hangar, Shiro made a beeline for Keith, who was stretching on the floor. “Come with me.” Shiro’s voice was dangerously calm and level. “We need to talk.”

Keith just smiled and stretched deeper. Lance had no idea Keith was that bendy. “Yes, sir.”

Lance pretended to be completely absorbed in the fasteners of his armour and watched out of the corner of his eye as Shiro pulled Keith up from the floor. That was odd. It was usually Keith who forcefully removed Shiro from the room so that they could do secret enemy things. And Keith went willingly, letting Shiro march him out of the room, which was even odder. Keith looked… smug, almost. Like he knew he was going to emerge from their showdown victorious.

This was Not Good.

Lance waited until Shiro and Keith were gone, then sprang to his feet. “All right, that’s it! I’ve gotta go stop this.”

Pidge gave him a look. “Stop what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lance asked. _“Shiro and Keith!_ I have to stop them before they do something they’re gonna regret.”

Allura and Coran exchanged worried looks. Pidge’s eyebrows practically climbed to her hairline.

“Uh, Lance, buddy,” Hunk began. “I don’t think…”

Lance didn’t stay to hear the rest. He was already out the door.

 

* * *

 

As Lance walked through the castle-ship, he tried to put himself in the shoes of someone who had an archenemy to fight, and began to hunt high and low for a spot that could, conceivably, be used as a battleground. Which didn’t sound like that hard of a task, but… the castle-ship was kind of ridiculously huge. And even though there were probably lots of rooms and hallways and corners that would be great for fighting someone in, Lance had no idea where they would be. Well, except for the training deck, which was literally made for the purpose of fighting. It seemed a little too obvious for a top-secret showdown to be happening there, but it wouldn’t be a bad place to start looking.

As it turned out, Lance didn’t have to go that far.

Coming from an alcove just off of the hall were the sounds of Keith and Shiro’s voices and the soft rustling of movement. Just as Lance suspected.

He rounded the corner, mentally preparing himself for the fight that lay ahead; for hands around necks, and bodies pressed against the wall, and…

 _Holyfuckingshit._ Lance clapped a hand over his mouth and hoped like hell that it stifled the gasp that escaped.

Because unless mouth-to-mouth combat was a thing, there was no explanation for this that even slightly resembled a fight.

Keith was backed against the wall, his arms looped around Shiro’s neck, expression relaxed and content as he kissed Shiro like his life depended on it. And Shiro, who had seemed irreparably pissed-off at Keith only ten minutes earlier, was cupping Keith’s face in his hands and sweetly kissing him back.

Lance knew that the smart thing to do would be to book it out of there as fast as he possibly could. But against every ounce of good judgment he possessed, he stayed.

At one point, Shiro broke the kiss and started to turn his head around. Lance’s heart jumped into his throat. _This is it. This is how I die._ But Keith, bless his heart, pulled Shiro back in with a sigh and tipped his head back, letting Shiro press kisses along his jaw.

“Want to head back to our room?” Shiro’s voice was such a low rumble against Keith’s throat that Lance almost missed it from his hiding place around the corner. He _wished_ he had missed it, at any rate.

“Mm.” Keith let out a breathy laugh and tangled his fingers in Shiro’s hair. “Yes, sir.”

“Smartass.”

“Maybe,” Keith said, his voice hitching halfway through the word. “But you love me.”

“God,” Shiro breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

And then they were kissing again, way more intensely than before, and Shiro was lifting Keith off the ground, and Keith was wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist, and Lance did _not_ need to stick around to see how the rest of this played out.

As soon as Lance got the fuck out of there, he walked aimlessly around the castle, mind racing as he tried to process what he had just seen. Keith and Shiro, making out. _Damn._ Lance guessed that meant that they really weren’t enemies. This was turning out to be an even more earth-shattering revelation than when he was eight and Veronica told him the tooth fairy wasn’t real.

The past few months, Lance realized, he had been living a lie. The times when Keith dragged Shiro off to “fight”? More like makeout sessions. All the times when Shiro needed to “have a word with” Keith after a battle? Even more makeout sessions, probably. The bruises on Keith’s neck? Hickies, no two ways about it. And the “sparring sessions” in Shiro’s room? All the blood drained from Lance’s face as the horrible realization set in that _those were not sparring sessions._

Until that moment, he had never truly understood the saying “ignorance is bliss”.

But hey, at least Shiro and Keith weren’t fighting.

 

* * *

 

Tucked away in the alcove, Shiro broke away from kissing Keith.

“Hey,” Keith said, his thumb smoothing over the furrow that had appeared in Shiro’s brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “I just… do you think he saw us?”

Keith smirked. “Oh, he definitely saw us. He’s probably off somewhere having a breakdown about it.”

“Really?” Shiro said. “That’s surprising. I thought everyone knew.” Shiro’s face reddened. “We weren’t exactly being subtle.”

“Yeah, but this is Lance we’re talking about,” Keith said. “For a smart guy, he can be really oblivious sometimes. Now enough about Lance.” Keith tightened his legs around Shiro’s waist. “I suggest you carry me to our room before I drag you there.”

Shiro chuckled and pressed a kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Yes, sir.”

 

* * *

 

After that day, Lance had had to come to terms with lots of things. Namely, the fact that Shiro and Keith were dating, but also the possibility that he maybe wasn’t as great at reading people as he thought. But on the plus side, Lance discovered that he was fantastic at keeping secrets. Because in the weeks that had passed since he caught Keith and Shiro swappin’ spit in the hallway, he hadn’t told a single soul.

Which meant that by now, Lance had to tell _someone_ that they were an item or else he was pretty sure he was gonna explode. Honestly, it was a miracle that he had managed to last as long as he had—which turned out to be until that month’s movie night.

Everyone was piled onto the couches in the common area. Coran had unearthed an ancient Altean drama with a plot that Lance gave up on trying to follow within the first five minutes. So naturally, Lance’s mind started to wander. And then it started to speedwalk. And then it started to run circles around the thing that he had been so desperately trying to keep under wraps for the past few weeks.

But, Lance reasoned, even legendary secret-keepers have their breaking points.

Not taking his eyes off the holoscreen, he poked Pidge in the shoulder. When she didn’t immediately respond, he poked her again. “Pidge.”

 _“What,”_ she whispered.

“Got something to tell you,” Lance whispered back.

“Can it wait?”

“No. It’s important. C’mere.”

Pidge rolled her eyes but scooted closer. “This better be good.”

“It is,” Lance promised. “It’s a secret.”

That caught Pidge’s interest. “I’m listening.”

Lance took a deep breath, paused for dramatic effect, and then whispered in Pidge’s ear, “Keith. And Shiro. Are dating.”

Lance waited—for Pidge to gasp in surprise, or to yell _No way!_ or for a huge explosion to go off in the background.

Instead, there was quiet.

There was a lull in the movie, and the room fell silent—silent enough to hear the soft laugh that came from the far end of the couch, where Keith and Shiro were snuggled up together so closely that they looked more like a single octopus than two humans. Shiro leaned down and dropped a kiss on the crown of Keith’s head. Smiling contentedly, Keith closed his eyes and leaned his head on Shiro’s chest.

Smirking, Pidge looked back at Lance.

“What was your first clue?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you thought of this fic, so feel free to leave a comment or come say hi on [tumblr](https://extremegraphicviolins.tumblr.com/)!


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